Wonderful World
by Rosekeet
Summary: Ron vists Hermione at her house during the summer. After spending a day together the two confront their fears about the future and their feelings for each other. Major Fluff. Prebook 6


_Wonderful World_

By: Rosekeet

Rated PG for sensuality

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters and titles belong to J.K. Rowling. I only WISH I was as talented (and as rich) as she is. _What a Wonderful World_ is a Louis Armstrong song. I assume no credit for this either.

A/N: This fic was written pre-book 6. Just took me a while to post it. sigh For some reason I'm in the mood for a little bit of fluffy romance. Just a little blurb of a one-shot to amuse myself (and hopefully you'll get SOMETHING out of it). It's a little bit different than my others and, as always, Ron and Hermione. Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the mindless, empty-caloried, waffiness. Trust me people, this won't have much nutritional value. It's the cotton-candy of fanfiction. Tastes so good but makes you feel just a wee bit ill. Enjoy!

"_The colors of the Rainbow, so pretty in the sky_

_Are also on the faces of people going by_

_I see friends shaking hands saying "How do you do?"_

_They're really saying 'I love you.' _

…

_And I think to myself, what a wonderful world." –_Louis Armstrong

Ron Weasley was sitting in the back seat of the family car pondering what in the world he was doing when his mother said, "Ron, dear, you remembered to pack clean underwear, right? They're lovely people, I know, but its summer so you can't do magic and they can't do magic and I don't want them to have to do laundry the non-magic way and--"

"Mum, RELAX! I packed underwear, okay? Sheesh…" Ron muttered feeling embarrassed despite the fact that there was no one in the car except his parents. Not a single sibling to poke fun at him.

"You'll be on your best behavior, won't you dear?" Mrs. Weasley continued.

"YES, Mum." He said exasperatedly. In fact, this was the only time he could remember being alone with both parents at the same time.

"Molly, don't be a worry wart," Arthur Weasley told his wife. "You'd think Ron was going to visit with the Minister. You give him less of a lecture when he goes of to school."

"Well, I just want Ron to make a good impression, that's all." Mrs. Weasley said a bit stiffly."

"It's only Hermione. Ron's known her for years and we've met the Grangers before. I'm sure they've heard all the stories about the trouble Ron gets into. You're just nagging him because there's nobody else too."

"Fine, fine. I'll back off."

"Good. But Ron, you will be sure to ask them about televisions won't you?" Mr. Weasley said looking in the review mirror at Ron.

"_ARTHUR!_" Mrs. Weasley said sounding very annoyed. "I've told you not to badger him--"

"I just wanted to know…" Ron stopped listening, glad his father had distracted him from his mother's nagging. He didn't particularly like having so many siblings but the nagging must drive only children mad. He sighed and looked out the window. They were getting into the Muggle villages now. It wouldn't be too long before they were there. _It's only Hermione _his father had said. Only Hermione. Ron sighed quietly. At one time those words would have been true, but not anymore. He didn't know the exact moment it happened but it had. Things had changed. Ron normally welcomed change and normally he would have welcomed this one too. He'd seen his brothers and his sister fall in love: the simple giddy happiness that came from simply seeing the special person; the rapture at seeing your name written on an envelope in their hand; the hours one could spend blissfully imagining any number of things. Ron would have gladly occupied his summer with these activities. He would have been glad to daydream the hours away as he worked on the essays for the N.E.W.T level classes he was signed up for. But his case was different. The object of his affections was different.

In the case of his brothers and sister it had been with a person they sat behind in history of magic, someone they passed in the halls everyday, a face from the crowd that held some special something in it. Love at first sight. FIREWORKS.

But Ron was not given fireworks. His feelings and evolved slowly over time and one day he had gotten up went about his business as usual and had suddenly realized he was in love. In love with the most inconvenient person possible.

"We're here!" Mr. Weasley said excitedly as he parked the car next to the curb. Ron, jerked from his thoughts looked out the window. They were parked in front of a charming, typical suburban-style, two-story house. The roof was made of brown shingles, and matching shutters adorned the outside of the windows. There were steps up to the oak door. Window boxes filled with blooming flowers hung at each sill. The lawn was perfectly manicured and the driveway swept clean. A large tree was in the corner of the yard and a swing hung from one of the branches. The house was well-kept, though obviously not new, and looked like it had come straight from the pages of a Muggle Studies book.

"Look Molly!" Mr. Weasley said. "I wonder if they'd open the garage door if I asked."

"Don't be rude! Muggles are known to use garages as storage and most are embarrassed by the state of them."

"Fascinating isn't it!" Ron rolled his eyes and opened the door of the car. In the front window of the house he saw a familiar figure. It was gone in a split second but a moment latter it came flying out the front door.

"Ron!" Hermione called running towards him. "It's so good to see you!" And the next thing Ron knew he was encased in as massive a huge as Hermione could manage.

"Good to see you too!" He said hugging her back, "But if you don't mind you're chocking me!" She loosened her grip and stepped back from him. She was dressed in a light-weight sundress in a flowered pattern and she was barefoot. The hair in front of her ears was tied back loosely and her skin, normally pale from long hours indoors studying was a light tan and her nose looked slightly sunburned. She was smiling and at him and Ron felt lucky that she was the first to speak.

"You know, I think you've grown some more," She said looking him up and down.

"I know. Mum's been complaining all summer about having to buy me knew robes in the fall," he said looking her up and down. He hadn't really been paying much attention as he had been wearing shorts most of the time but now he could see. He stood- towered really-- a foot tall (probably more) over Hermione.

"Oh, Ron, honestly," Mrs. Weasley said getting out of the car.

"Hello Mrs. Weasley!" Hermione said going over to her and giving her a friendly hug.

"You're looking very well, dear," Mrs. Weasley said smiling at her. "Been getting some sun I see,"

"Yes, we took a holiday to the coast last week," Hermione told her, "And I've been riding my bicycle around town."

"Bicycle!" Mr. Weasley said suddenly forgetting about helping Ron with his large trunk. "Do you think I could have a look?"

"Of course," Hermione said smiling at him. "You'll stay for dinner won't you? My parents insist."

"Well, I--" Mrs. Weasley said.

"Merlin's beard! That would be fantastic! Just think Molly, a Muggle kitchen."

"You can even help my mother cook, if you like, Mr. Weasley," Hermione said grinning.

"Really? Do you think she'd mind?" Asked Mr. Weasley excitedly.

"Not at all. Oh, Ron!" Hermione said hurrying over to help him with his trunk and Pigwidgeon's cage.

"Arthur! I told you to spell them!" Mrs. Weasley said with a hit of disgust in her voice. She waved her wand and soon the trunk and cage were floating well above Ron's head.

"Thanks," Ron said glad to be rid of them.

"Come on inside, I'll get you something to drink," Hermione said and led the whole troop of them indoors.

"Hello! Hello!" Said a cheerful Mrs. Granger as they entered the house. She was a pleasant looking woman of average height and weight with wide eyes and hair that was just like Hermione's.

"Thank you for having us in." Mrs. Weasley said.

"Yes, I'm – I say! Is that a real stereo?" Said Mr. Weasley and dashed over to the cabinet that encased it.

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley chastised.

"Oh, it's alright," Mrs. Granger said cheerfully though she looked a bit puzzled.

"My husband is fascinated with anything Muggle." Mrs. Weasley said with an embarrassed sort of sigh

"I know. Hermione's told me."

"Might you turn it on?" Asked Mr. Weasley looking up.

"I'm afraid Hermione and I can't do a thing with it. My husband would be glad to show you when he gets home though. He went down to the supermarket to get some steak and he used up the last of the butter," she said rolling her eyes.

"That'd please Arthur to no end, but I'm afraid he might overwhelm your husband."

"Stan is fine with it. He loves that stereo. We both find it fascinating that we're a subject that Hermione can study in school."

"Did Hermione take Muggle Studies?" Mrs. Weasley asked curiously.

"She wants to take _everything._ She always did have her nose in a book," Mrs. Granger said turning to see where her daughter was. "Hermione, why don't you show Ron up to the guest room?"

"Okay," Hermione said. "It's up this way." Mrs. Weasley flicked her wand and the trunks got behind Ron to follow them up the stairs.

"Sorry about my Dad," Ron said as they got out of earshot of the adults. "My mum wasn't kidding. He'll talk your dad's ear off."

"I believe it," Hermione said with a laugh as she led Ron and the trunk down the hallway. The walls were hung with large oil paintings and nonmoving Muggle photographs.

"I like the paintings," Ron said gesturing to a large landscape.

"You'll have to tell my mother. She painted them all."

"I thought she was a dentist."

"She is. She studied painting too though. Dentistry is a better way to make a living. I think painting is where her heart is though," Hermione said. "Here's the guest room."

Ron followed Hermione into the room and his trunk and the owl's cage fell with a thud behind him. The room was of medium size with a large window over looking the Grangers' backyard. There was a bed with a blue spread, a dresser and a large desk and chair.

"Thanks," Ron said and he started trying to drag his trunk in. Hermione followed and grabbed the handle with him and they easily heaved it into the room and to the foot of the bed. Ron set Pigwidgeon's cage on top of the trunk and Hermione opened the window.

"It's stuffy in here," she said. "No wonder you're all flushed." Ron nodded a 'thank you' though he knew that he was not flushed because of the room's temperature.

"It's strange having you here," Hermione said after a minute. He must have looked worried because she quickly added, "I'm awfully glad you're here, of course but life in the wizarding world has always seemed so separate to me. Coming back home is like stepping into a dream world almost… It's so odd. I always feel like maybe I've just dreamed Hogwarts and everything up, even though I do my homework and read the daily prophet and answer yours and Harry's owls."

"I'd never thought of that," Ron said honestly. Going home for him was simply a vacation from school but it was different for people with Muggle parents.

"Yeah… I mean, I love my parents and everything but I don't belong in the Muggle world, you know? It's kind of like a novelty now," She said pensively, leaning against the desk. Ron studied her for a moment. The expression on her face was soft, and thoughtful; her lips parted just a little bit. Her hair hung lose around her shoulders. It seemed as though it was losing some of its wild, frizzy, un-tamability and changing into wavy curls. He could tell her figure had changed since he'd last noticed. She was becoming curvy and looking less and less like she belonged in the world of children. Ron had noticed the same thing about himself. His height helped of course, but his face was losing its baby roundness and his shoulders hand broadened.

His gaze must have lingered on her a moment too long because her eyebrows moved up inquisitively.

"You know, I've never been in a Muggle house before," he said.

"Well, I'll give you the tour," She said with a charming smile that made his stomach drop slightly. He followed Hermione around the house as she showed him everything in the upstairs. They stopped in Hermione's room, which Ron felt was perfectly suited for her. The walls were pale yellow, and bookcases lined the wall. The bed had a colorful quilt on it and her desk, which was under the window, was neatly organized. All her school books were lined up on the bookcase next to the desk. The others were full of Muggle novels, mostly fantasy, and numerous volumes containing the complete works of Shakespeare. ("Some people think he was a wizard, you know," Hermione had said). Ron sat down on her bed, puzzling at the clock radio, ("I know there's one in the guest room somewhere; I'll have to ask Dad.") when he saw the pictures on her bedside table. There was one of her and her parents, another of two elderly people Ron guessed were her grandparents, one of Hermione, him, and Harry and the last one was of the two of them. He picked up the picture, which was framed tastefully in silver, and studied it. Ron guessed it was from around 4th year, and he was giving Hermione rabbit ears. The Hermione in the photograph elbowed him and snatched his arm down, scowling and mouthing something at him. Ron guessed that she was telling him to smile so they could have a good picture but Ron in the photo started making faces and soon they were both laughing.

"I've always liked that picture," Hermione said sitting down next to him on her bed.

"I don't even remember it being taken," Ron said still holding it.

"I don't know who took it… It just ended up with all my photos from fourth year and I framed it a while back."

"It just seems so…" Ron said, searching for a word.

"Characteristic?"

"Yes. Of both of us." Hermione smiled and leaned closer to get a better look. Their arms were touching and her chin was almost resting on his shoulder. Ron could feel her breath on his face. "You've always been able to get me to laugh, Ron," she said. He felt goose pimples go up his arms. For some reason the way she had said his name sounded different. He didn't know why, or what it was… Or had it always been that way and he'd never noticed? He didn't know what to do as they continued to sit there looking at the two of them in the photo laugh. Hermione was so close to him, yet so almost unimaginably far away.

"HERMIONE! RON!" A faint voice called. "SUPPER!"

"Oh!" Hermione said hopping up quickly, "Supper's ready!" Ron nodded, mute and sat the photo back on the bedside table. She flashed him a large, brilliant smile and hurried down the hall and stairs into the dinning room. Ron followed right behind but he felt like a specter, moving in slow motion.

The rest of the evening passed that way. He acted perfectly normal: laughed at the jokes, rolled his eyes at his parents, teased Hermione. He felt like he wasn't quite there. As if there was a veil between him and the rest of the world. Everything was fuzzy. Except for Hermione. Her he saw with perfect clarity. Every word she spoke reached his ears, every smile, every mouthful of food was noted, every wrinkling of the nose, every movement of the arms and legs. Everything. Even when the Granger's showed them the Telly, something Ron had never seen and something Mr. Weasley practically had a spasm of delight over, it was the same. He ate the pie Mrs. Granger had made, heard the music that came out of Mr. Granger's stereo he was still in his dream world. He hugged and kissed his parents good-bye; promised to write them when he got to school but he wasn't really seeing them. All he saw was Hermione hugging his mother and saying she'd love to visit at Easter time.

After they were gone Mrs. Granger said something and Hermione, who was yawning, agreed. Ron followed her up the stairs and said good-night as Hermione went into her room.

"I'm really glad you're here," she said and closed her bedroom door. The words echoed in Ron's mind as he shut his own door and pulled off his clothes. He suddenly felt incredibly tired. He lay down on the bed in his boxer shorts and listened as Hermione turned on the sink in the bathroom next door. He imagined her brushing her teeth and flossing. Then washing her face and pulling her hair back into a ponytail or braid so it wouldn't frizz. The water turned off and he could see her rubbing cream on her checks like Ginny did so she wouldn't get blemishes. His eyes drooped shut and he fell asleep watching Hermione on the inside of his eyelids.

Hermione, though she was very tired, did not sleep well that night. She tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. She was too hot, then too cold. She opened her window then shut it. She sighed as she lay on top of the messy sheets, one leg hanging off the side of the bed. She imagined Ron in the next room sleeping quietly, snoring slightly. She closed her eyes and sighed again. Ron of course, was the reason why she couldn't sleep. She clicked on the light on her bedside table and pulled a plain composition book out of the drawer. She opened it and flipped to the first blank page. It was full of all sorts of writing. Essays for school, novels she would never finish, short stories that she would one day bother to edit, journal entries, bits of bad poetry.

Everything was in that notebook.

_I wish that love was like it was in the fantasy novels I used to read. It was never complicated…_

The next morning, when Hermione awoke, her lamp was still on and the pen had made a large ink spot on her sheets. She clicked the lamp off and picked her notebook up from where it had fallen. The spot didn't bother her; there was a bottle of magical spot remover in the laundry room that she had bought for her mother. She rose from her bed and looked at the clock-radio. It was still very early. She put her robe on over her pajamas and pulled the sheet off the bed.

No noise came from Ron's room as she passed. She smiled imagining that she wouldn't be seeing him until 9:30 at the earliest. He could sleep until noon if allowed. There was no noise from her parents' room down stairs either. She was puzzled for a moment but then remembered that they had left early for a convention on the other side of London. They wouldn't be home until late.

In the laundry room she put the spot remover on the sheet. The ugly black mark vanished instantly but Hermione put it in the washer anyway; she couldn't remember the last time it had been washed.

In the kitchen the Muggle paper and the _Daily Prophet_ lay on the table. She poured herself a glass of orange juice, put a frozen waffle in the toaster, and then opened the paper. The headline of the_ Prophet_ read "MORE ATTACKS BY DEATHEATERS". She sighed and turned it over. It was a miracle her parents still let her go to Hogwarts. Everyday the paper brought more bad news. There was never anything hopeful or encouraging. She wondered how Harry could stand it.

She opened the Muggle paper and found the comics. Nothing particularly dreadful ever happened there. After she read the comics and ate her waffle she read about famous movies stars and personalities. There had been a big movie premier the day before. Many famous actors from the United States had been there.

The minutes slowly crept by as she sat there reading the relatively harmless Muggle paper. The worse thing was the war with Iraq. War was a terrible thing of course, but if it was happening in a country as far away as Iraq and no one she knew was there, it didn't particularly trouble her. When she had finished everything of interest in the paper it was a little after 8:30.

Bored, she wandered into the living room and flipped on the telly. All that was on were dull talk shows, children's cartoons and the news. She turned her thoughts instead to what she and Ron would do. They could go into town and she could talk him to some genuine Muggle places. They could go to the park, some stores, and Muggle restaurant and maybe to the movies. He may not be as fascinated by Muggles as his father but he'd probably get a kick out of it.

"How do Muggles manage?" She imagined him saying. She absently clicked a button on the remote and instead of the channel changing her father's stereo clicked on.

_I see trees of green, red roses too._

_I see them bloom for me and for you,_

_And I think to myself, what a wonderful world_

It was the jazz album her father had been playing the night before. She thought about turning it off but decided that she rather liked it so she turned the telly off and went to clean up the kitchen.

She cleared the table and put the juice away. Under one of her parents coffee mugs she found some money and the words "for teaching Ron about us 'Muggles' and pizza tonight" scrawled on a piece of paper. She put it aside and was putting the mugs in the dishwasher when she heard footsteps on the stairs. She looked up.

Ron was standing there with his hair wet and plastered to his face dressed in shorts and a blue stripped t-shirt. He still looked groggy, as though the shower hadn't woken him up.

"Morning!" She said cheerfully pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She hadn't taken it out of its braid yet. "I didn't even here the water running."

"I hope you don't mind. I just wasn't really quite all here when I got up."

"You still don't look like you're quite here." She laughed tying her robe together. She felt strangely self-conscious in her pajamas, which was foolish because Ron had seen her in them before. He glared at her.

"I wake up slow."

"I know. This is early for you."

"Believe me, I'm feeling it."

"Hungry?"

"Yes."

"Okay then. How about a traditional Muggle breakfast?"

"Uh… okay. What is it?"

"Frozen waffles." She said pulling the box out of the freezer.

"Frozen?" He asked dubiously. "How are you supposed to eat them?"

"You cook them in the toaster first!" She said laughing.

"Oh. Well, that makes sense," Ron said. "Dad would have an absolute fit if he could have one. He goes on and on about toasters."

"I thought he'd die from sheer joy last night."

"He can die now. He's a fulfilled man."

"Want some juice?"

"Sure. I'll get it. "

"It's in the fridge," she said handing him a glass. He poured himself a glass then sat down and turned the _Daily Prophet_ upright. Hermione watched his freckled face cloud over as he read the headline.

"Things keep getting worse by the day," he said with a sigh as he scanned the article. "I don't know what we're going to do." Hermione didn't say anything. Behind her the waffles popped up. She put them on a plate and set them in front of Ron with butter and syrup.

"I thought we could go into town today," she said changing the subject. "I can give you a real Muggle experience."

"Sound funs," he said through a mouthful of waffle. "How will we get there?"

"You'll see," Hermione said with a smile. "I'm going to go take a shower. We can go when I'm done."

"Okay. Oh by the way,"

"Yeah?"

"What's this music? It's nice."

"Oh, it's one of my dad's jazz albums. I think it's Louis Armstrong. An American musician." She said and walked up the stairs.

_I see skies of blue and clouds of white._

_The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night._

_And I think to myself, what a wonderful world._

When Hermione came down the stairs she was pulling her still damp hair back into a lose braid. She was dressed in a dark blue knee-length skirt and white polo-shirt. She was wearing old sneakers and had a crocheted bag slung over one shoulder. She smiled at Ron as he watched her come down. There was nothing special about her appearance, she was obviously dressed for comfort and the heat, but Ron somehow felt overwhelmed. Hermione had become a very pretty girl.

"Ready?" she asked. Ron nodded, mute. She pulled a visor off the hat stand next to the front door and pulled it on her head. She tossed a hat to Ron, saying,

"You'll get fried to a crisp without that, being a red head and all..."

"Gee, thanks," he said, regaining his voice, as he followed her into the garage, stopping so she could collect the money, and out into the garage.

"So are we walking or what?" He asked as she opened the garage door and the sunlight poured in.

"Nope."

"Well, there's no car so driving is out whether or not-" his words were cut short as he saw what Hermione had wheeled over. "Wha-what is _that_?" He asked, horrified.

"A bike," she said with a smile.

"But- but-"

"A tandem bike," she expanded. Ron knew what bicycles were, he'd seen them before, but he'd never seen a tandem bike. There were two seats, and two sets of handles, and of course, two wheels. A large basket was attached to the front. "Can you ride a bike?" Hermione asked.

"Well, uh- _no_. I can't."

"That's what I thought. It's easy enough and with me too, we should be okay."

"Uh…" Hermione swung her leg over the seat in the front.

"If you can ride a broom you can do this." Ron stumbled onto the back seat. "Just put your feet on the peddles and-" Hermione pushed off. It took several tries and close calls before Ron got the hang of it, but soon they were peddling down the street and into town, Hermione steering. She pointed out the sights as they traveled along. Ron didn't find the Muggle village remarkable interesting in itself but for Hermione's sake it was. She had lived in this village, a suburb of London, her whole life.

"There's my old school," she said coming to a stop. Ron stopped peddling too late and slammed into his handlebars. "I _hated_ it."

"Why?" He chocked out.

"Well, I was a little weird, being a witch and all. Funny stuff always happened around me and I was, as you remember, totally obnoxious."

"Yeah, I remember," he said with a laugh.

"Too much time reading and studying," she said as they started biking again. Hermione took Ron to the library (he'd gotten quite a kick out of the fantasy section), to a short film at the movie theater ("it's sort of like a Wizard photograph…") and to a Muggle café for lunch ("Shame they don't have Butterbeer…" "Honestly, Ron, there's nothing wrong with coke.") Ron couldn't remember feeling so happy in a long time. The Muggle village seemed so calm, and carefree compared to the wizarding world.

And he was with Hermione.

Their conversation came easily and they laughed as she shared her hometown and all its stories with him. He felt like he was learning so much about her and he could feeling himself falling even more for her. He wondered how it would end. What was Hermione feeling? Did she feel the connection he did? Would his heart get broken? But somehow it didn't matter. All that mattered was the moment. He felt happy and being in love was good.

"So what now?" Ron asked as they exited a hardware store where he had bought a radio and a pack of batteries for his father.

"Hungry?"

"Yes. I haven't gotten this much exercise all summer. Or not since I had to hunt down Fred and George for testing their new exploding quills on me." Hermione laughed and shook her head.

"School won't be the same without them. Why don't we go to the park for ice cream?"

"Brilliant," he said climbing onto the bike. They coasted along the street, the hot summer wind blowing through their hair. There weren't any clouds in the sky and Ron was glad Hermione gave him a hat. His face would have been redder than his hair otherwise.

"Here we are!" Hermione said cheerfully, looking back over her shoulder at him. Her hair was coming out of its braid and floating around her face which was flushed with heat and wind. They parked the bike in the bike-rake and quickly found an ice-cream man.

"Chocolate mint please," Hermione said.

"Strawberry," Ron requested. "I feel bad, not paying for anything…" He said licking the drips off his cone.

"I'd love to see you pass off a Galleon to an ice cream vendor," she said with a grin. "Just get me a nice Christmas present."

"Will do," he said with a grin. "What do you want?"

"Well, there's a particularly nice set of books called 'A Practical History of Trolls' that I've been dying to read."

"I'm going to hope you're joking," He said sitting down on a swing.

"Of course, I'm not THAT dull."

"Well, if you aren't _dying_ to know about trolls, then what?"

"Oh, I dunno… I never really know what I want."

"What ever happened to that perfume I gave you last year?"

"I put it on one morning and Lavender had such a bad asthma attack she spent the rest of the day in the infirmary."

"You're joking!"

"I am not! Where did you get that stuff anyway?"

"The lady at the shop said that EVERYBODY loved perfume!"

"But perfume called, 'impervious'?"

"I didn't know what that word meant!" Hermione started laughing.

"Oh, Ron…"

"Well, that eliminates another bottle of that," he muttered from behind his ice cream. She started laughing again.

"You're so cute sometimes."

"I was thinking stupid, but I guess I can live with cute." She smiled and shook her head. They fell into a comfortable silence as they finished their ice cream. There were many children at the park that day. They were playing on the teeter-tooter, climbing on the jungle-gym, and building castles in the sandbox. Mothers were sitting on picnic blankets under the shade of the trees and on benches glancing up from books or conversations every now and then. It was late afternoon and the trees were casting long shadows. The children's happy shouts and voices filled the air. Everything seemed so perfect and so safe, as if nothing bad could ever happen.

"It's so weird to think that in the Wizarding world parents won't let their children leave the house," Hermione said quietly. Her comment sent chills up his spine; it was as if they had been thinking about the same thing.

"I know. It makes me almost want to be Muggle."

"Yeah. But, they're getting killed too… but to them it's just random murders. Serial killers on the lose. Rising crime rates. Bad things, but to the people here it's something that never happens." She was silent for a moment. "I used to come to this park all the time when I was little. My dad would push me on the swing and sometimes I'd come by myself to read. But now when I see this place I imagine those Death Eaters somewhere, at another park, just like this, torturing Muggle children."

"I read that too," Ron said quietly as he remembered the horrid article and accompanying photograph.

"It makes me feel ill." They were silent for a minute.

"Let me push you," Ron said suddenly rising from his swing.

"Okay," she said smiling slightly. Ron grabbed the chains and pulled back and Hermione rose in the air. He used to push his sister on the swing they had in the backyard; a magic swing that wasn't attached to anything. After Hermione had risen a little higher he stopped pushing on the chains and placed his hands on the small of her back. He felt her muscles tense the first time he pushed but after that there was no protest, vocal or physical. It was an odd moment for Ron. There he was, in the image of suburban perfection, pushing Hermione on a swing. The sun was warm on his back and when Hermione swung towards him he could smell her soap on the breeze. He could also feel waves of emotions. Anger, Sorrow, Happiness, Confusion, Love(?), Fear, Joy. They crashed on him, pounding and pounding unceasingly until he felt that for sure he would be driven right into the sand.

"Oh, Ron," he heard her say. "It's not right." He grabbed the chains of the swing and slowed her to a stop. Tears were creating a trail down her face and her voice was choked.

"I'm so afraid," she said turning her head to look at where he was standing behind her.

"I am too," he said gently, still holding onto the chains.

"I just don't know what I'd do if something happened to my parents, or the school, or Harry, or you."

"Hermione," He wanted to tell her that nothing would happen, but they both knew it was a lie. There was nothing he could say to reassure her that things would be okay. Nothing to reassure himself for he too awoke often with nightmares of his entire life and all his loved ones going up in flames caused by Deatheaters. Dreams haunted with screams and Hermione calling his name. "Hermione," he said again and raised his left had to her face. He gently brushed the tears away trying in vain to think of something to say. Their eyes locked and all thoughts vanished. There was so much in her eyes that wasn't being said. He couldn't begin to imagine what it all was. It was as if there was a magnet between them or some thread of an invisible force that was to powerful for them to break. The air around him seemed to vibrate with it and his ears could no longer hear. He wiped away another tear and the next thing he knew they were kissing.

He felt hot and cold running through his veins all at once. Hermione's tears were dampening his own cheeks and her own hand was on his face as she leaned back to kiss him. . The world seemed to be spinning faster and faster even though his eyes were closed and he wasn't moving. He could feel the force between them throbbing, the magnets locked.

Her lips tasted of chocolate mint ice cream.

Then just as quickly as it had locked he felt it snap. Hermione's lips left his own and her hand slid slowly off his face. She turned to face forward, breathing awkwardly.

"I-I think we'd better get home," she said after a moment.

"Right," Ron whispered, head hanging. He slowly let go of the chain with his right hand. It had left an imprint and was red from being clutched so hard. Ron followed Hermione to where they had left the bike. She didn't say anything and didn't look back.  
As they peddled back towards the Granger home no words were spoken. Ron knew he should say something. But what? "I'm sorry?" But she hadn't backed away. Her own hand had been on his face. He couldn't read her emotions and was desperately hoping he hadn't ruined their friendship. It was impossible to imagine his future without her. They parked the bike in the garage and went inside.

"I'm going to put my shoes upstairs," Hermione said without looking at him. Ron nodded and watched her hurry up the stairs. She closed the door to her room with her bang and slid down against the door, hand on her lips. What had just happened? Her whole body was trembling, and when she closed her eyes she could see Ron's eyes staring into hers, feel his lips on hers, his hand tenderly wiping the tears away. She now knew, somewhat, how Ron felt, and she felt more terrified than before. Hermione was a practical girl. She knew friends lasted longer than lovers and Ron was a valuable friend. She ached to think about a break-up or what the future would bring or… She shook her head violently. Tears threatened to break through but she forced them back. She pulled off her shoes trying to sort through conflicting emotions.

Ron looked up from where he had been sitting as he heard Hermione come down the stairs.

"Hermione," he said standing up.

"I'm to order the pizza now," she said. "It'll take over an hour to get here." Ron stood there helplessly as she picked up the telephone. There was something between them he knew. She could no longer deny it. He knew that if this awkwardness lasted he would surely shrivel up inside. When she hung up the phone he went into the kitchen but didn't give him time to talk.

"What about some music?" she said and hurried out again. Soon Louis Armstrong filled the house again.

"Herm--"

"So what did you think of my town?"

"Oh, it's very nice."

"I hope you had a good time."

"Yeah, I had a great time."

"I thought the film was great. I hadn't seen that one before. What did you think of the cinema?"

"It was interesting."

"You're dad would love it, I'm sure. I just know he'll be crazy about the radio. He can listen to all the Muggle talk shows and I know he'll learn lots." Ron didn't say anything. He could tell Hermione was talking to fill the silence and prevent conversation about what happened at the park. She continued to chatter away, voice thin and strained. She took a head of lettuce out of the fridge and began frantically chopping at it for salad.

"What was your favorite part of the day?" she asked over the chopping.

"Spending it with you," he said quietly. The chopping stopped momentarily and Hermione sounded like she was fighting back tears.

"Please, Ron… don't…" she practically pleaded.

"We need to talk about this Hermione. If we don't I'll go crazy. I know you care about me."

"You're my friend."

"More than that."

"Best friend."

"Hermione, you know what I mean, and I don't know why you want to avoid it. I know you care deeply about Harry too, but that's like how I care about Ginny. I can't figure out what you feel about me, but-- but I know that _I _love you," he said quickly. Hermione didn't speak. She stood there at the cutting board, frozen except for the shaking of her shoulders from silent sobs.

"Hermione," Ron said moving towards her.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" she said forcefully. "I know that if you do I'll just turn around and you'll kiss me again and say that everything will be okay, and I'll believe you! We'll be happy for a while and then back in the wizarding world things will fall apart, people will be murdered and we'll have school. If we broke up or if… if… something happened to you I don't know what would happen to me. I'd die inside, I think."

"I don't understand," Ron said mind tumbling.

"I don't want to be hurt! I don't want _you_ to be hurt! If we—we'll both end up with broken hearts! A first love never lasts forever! It'll end in pain, Ron. Voldemort will end it or something- and there has been enough of that," she said and began her fierce chopping again.

"I would never hurt you on purpose," he said quietly. "And everyone has to have a first love at one time or another. Your heart will get broken in the end Hermione, whether it is by me or someone else. And if you love me, there will at least be some happiness for us no matter what happens. Voldemort wants to inspire fear and kill love, and he will win if everyone is afraid to love." Hermione's chopping stopped and he gently laid a hand on her shoulder.

"You are already breaking my heart, Ron," she said thickly. "I don't want to do anything stupid… and I'm getting the feeling that no matter what I do I will be hurt and my brain and my heart are saying two different things." Ron didn't say anything. He stood there feeling a small hairline fracture beginning in the center of his heart. With each second it spread.

"Ron, what are you thinking?" she whispered.

"That my heart is cracking but, I guess I will live to see another day," he whispered back.

"Me too…but, I don't want to wake up like that if I can do something about it." She turned around and Ron suddenly realized that her arms were wrapped around him she was crying into his chest. He hugged her gently to him.

"I do love you, Ron… I have for a long time." She said into his chest. "But I am still afraid of what's going to happen to us." He lifted her face up to his.

"The future scares the bloody shit out of me," he said honestly, "But that doesn't mean we can't live the present."

"You're right."

"That's a switch isn't it?" he said and she smiled up at him.

"There's a first time for everything. When the pizza gets here we can eat it in the living room and I'll show you my favorite funny movies."

"Sounds brilliant."

"And we can eat the ice cream in the freezer. Right out of the carton."

"I've totally corrupted you, haven't I?" he said with a laugh. She smiled. Ron put his hand on her face brushing off the last of the tears. Hermione put her arm around his neck and he leaned forward to give her a kiss that was interrupted by the pizza delivery boy.

That night when Mr. and Mrs. Granger came home they found Ron and Hermione asleep in front of the T.V. They were sitting on the floor, backs against the couch. Hermione was leaning against Ron with her head on his shoulder. The pizza box was empty on the coffee table and ice cream container had two spoons in it.

"Should I be worried about what went on here?" Mr. Granger asked his wife. She smiled.

"I don't think so, dear. They're good kids."

"But look how close they are!"

"Our parents found us in much more compromising positions."

"Yeah, well… we hadn't done anything!" Mr. Granger said defensively. Mrs. Granger laughed quietly at him.

"And they haven't either. Plus, I couldn't pick a better boy for Hermione. He loves her very dearly."

"What? How do you know?" Mr. Granger said. "Does Hermione--?"

"You can see it in the eyes, dear. They hardly looked at anything but each other."

"I guess you're right…"

"I usually am, dear. I usually am."

THE END


End file.
